To Die For
by Rayniekinnz
Summary: 'After Harry comes into his inheritance, he has to spend every Thursday with his mate. Of course this would lead to something more.' Lucius/Harry. Veelafic. Written for 'Were101'.


**Requester**: were101  
>"LuciusHarry Veela/Creature fic."

* * *

><p><strong>To Die For<strong>

They were staring, whispering to each other as he passed. He ignored them, far too used to the gossip and hostility by now. He was expressionless, walking along his own path towards the Dungeons like he did every Thursday night.

It was pushing curfew, but a few students were still up and about. Prefects sent them on their way, but that didn't stop the conjugating in the middle of the passages. Harry wasn't particularly arrogant, but he knew they were hovering to get a look at him before his "appointment". It was a game among the bored students to try and spot the differences in himself preceding and following his visit to the Snakes' Den. He was disgusted, but refused to let it get to him. It was what they wanted, after all – some sort of blow-up they could use against him if it ever looked like he needed some chastising.

"Potter," Snape glared balefully at him, pulling the door to his private quarters open. "You're late."

"Professor Dumbledore has Hermione 'keeping an eye on me' – you try getting away from her when she starts up," he grumbled, returning his dark look. He loved his best friend, but her worrying was almost as bad as Ron's refusal to discuss their 'dilemma'. He claimed he didn't care, but he'd rather not have the mental images. It made it easier on Harry, but Ron leaving the room every time the word was even uttered was getting extremely irritating.

"You'd do well to remember not to do this again, clingy teenage girl or not," Snape warned, raising an eyebrow sharply. "Some of us have lives, if you hadn't noticed."

Harry clenched his teeth, nodding shortly. Snape was still his mutinously bastardly self, which he supposed was a good thing considering how everyone else was acting. It wasn't as if he were dying, for god's sake! Luckily Malfoy seemed even less impressed than himself, though he seemed to think bringing it into their daily arguments would be a little below the belt. Harry understood, though he had a good laugh about it in the privacy of his own mind. It would be detrimental to him, after all, not Harry.

"Break anything, and you'll be scrubbing cauldrons with your toothbrush," Snape whispered darkly before slipping by him and stalking down the dim passage, candles flickering and wavering.

Harry rolled his eyes, closing the door behind himself and walking across the surprisingly pleasantly decorated living-room. He pulled open the large portrait hanging beside a nondescript bookcase and climbed through the previously-secret entrance, painting sliding shut after him with a soft whisper of air. He glanced around habitually, taking in the dim lighting and expensive furniture. It wasn't a particularly large room [or so he was told] with a fireplace and seating-area in one corner, a table and two chairs in the other and a [unused] bed in the centre of the wall opposite the entrance. Bookcases enveloped whatever stone frozen paintings and tapestries didn't.

"How nice of you to show up, Mr. Potter."

Harry scowled at the supercilious drawl, finally allowing himself to look at the only other person in the room. He sat before the fireplace, ankle crossed over his knee and book propped up on his lap. Platinum hair was tied at the base of his neck, allowing Harry full-view of his admittedly handsome profile. He didn't look up or otherwise show that he had noticed the other's presence, though the slight upturn to his mouth gave him away.

"I was caught up," Harry muttered, slouching across the room and sinking into a ridiculously soft armchair. It moulded around him like it was trying to swallow him whole – not that Harry minded. Oh no, he'd much rather be eaten by a chair than have to keep coming to these ridiculous "appointments".

"And I am a busy man," Lucius said, narrowing his eyes and tilting his chin up to look at him. "Despite popular belief, I do have a job and unfortunately it does take up quite a bit of my time. I can't be sitting here twiddling my thumbs, waiting for you to be bothered enough to get off your rear and walk down the hall."

"It was five minutes!" Harry blurted out, all of his frustration and anger bubbling to the surface. "If this is such a hardship, why don't you do us both a favour and just not come?!"

Lucius remained blasé, eyes half-mast and eyebrows inching towards his hairline in a distinctively patronising manner. "Let's not forget whose life depends on my being here, Mr. Potter. If you would rather forgo these meetings, then please, say the word and I'll leave you to the deterioration of your soul."

Harry pressed his lips together, looking away defiantly. He knew perfectly well the whole situation was indeed Malfoy Senior doing him a favour – a huge favour – but it didn't change the fact that Harry would have rather been doing something else. _Anything else!_ Killing Voldemort again, even! But no, instead he was stuck having to "spend quality time" with the father of his [second] arch-nemesis lest he wither away and die of loneliness.

_Of course_ Harry would have been a Veela. He didn't do anything half-way it seemed and had inherited the seemingly dormant genes from some questionable marriages within the Potter line, fully awakening them on his sixteenth birthday – as was the way of the Veela. Since no-one had even known about his possible Inheritance, it had been quite a shock when he awoke the morning of the thirty-first with feathery "wings" sprouting from his back and Lucius Malfoy's wand under his nose. Apparently, the first thing a fledgling did was search for his or her mate. Harry had been _lucky_ enough to have already met his, and his magic did him the favour of Apparating him to his soul-mate's location.

Which just so happened to be the rather large [and comfy] bed of Lord and Lady Malfoy, occupied by both of them. Talk about awkward – Lucius was understandably unimpressed to find him snuggled up to his wife, as you can imagine, and Mrs Malfoy had nearly single-handedly castrated him when she awoke to his head cushioned upon her breasts.

He shuddered, _breasts…_

Dumbledore had been called in immediately to "remove your little pet from my house!" and things seemed to go down-hill from there. Many hours being tested by Pomfrey and Snape later, Harry was told – not even asked, _told_ – that he would be visiting with Lucius for tea once a week from then on. No-one gave him any information other than that he was a Veela and would need contact with his mate [Lucius, apparently] and just sent him on his way as if his whole life hadn't just been tossed upside down. If it wasn't for Hermione, he doubted he would have learned half of the _highly important_ things he would have been taught as a young child in a full or half Veela family.

He wasn't even privy to Lucius' reaction to their supposed 'bond'! And it wasn't as if Lucius told him, either! Oh no, Mr. Superiority Complex acted as if they were merely being forced together for some kind of—_business meeting!_

Not as if any business was going on, either. They'd sit in silence, mostly, doing homework and reading respectively. They used a secret room Dumbledore had "added" onto Snape's quarters, most likely decorated to Lucius' tastes if the green everything and creepy paintings were anything to go by. Every Thursday, holidays included apparently, he was made to spend three to four hours with a man he otherwise would have avoided like the plague. He felt a bit like he had gotten the short end of the stick – again! – and he was so sick and tired of being miserable and "special".

The creepy, sneaky urges to go over and climb into his lap weren't helping either.

Harry often wondered, late at night and mostly after or before their meetings, how exactly his life would go after Hogwarts. He still had roughly another year and a half of schooling, but then what? He had plans – plans of getting married, buying a house, getting a job and having a family. He would forget about all the crap he had gone through during his childhood and teenage-years, and just be _happy_.

How the fuck was he supposed to do any of that when the only person he could share those experiences with without inevitably offing himself had already been there, done that and gotten the bloody t-shirt? And then there was the fact that "happy" and "Lucius Malfoy" couldn't fit into the same sentence no matter how much you tried.

Staring mournfully into the fireplace, he was glad when Lucius merely returned to his book, apparently uncaring that he was being ignored.

Maybe there was hope for them yet.

* * *

><p>"Alright, Harry?" Hermione asked two weeks later, sitting across from him at his library table and taking out her homework. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced up at him with worried brown eyes, looking down almost immediately. She knew he didn't like to be fussed over.<p>

"Fine," he shrugged, rubbing his eyes and pushing his Charms essay away. "Where's Ron?"

"Probably off snogging Lavender or something. Are you almost done? It's due on Monday."

Ignoring her scolding tone, Harry propped his chin up on a fist. "I need another few inches. I don't suppose you—"

"I'm not doing your homework for you, Harry!" Hermione shook her head, pursing her lips. Her expression smoothed out then and she sighed, taking his parchment to read over anyway. Absently, she asked, "How was the meeting last night?"

Harry stiffened, clenching his teeth and glaring at the desktop. A few locks of hair fell in his eyes but he left them be, somewhat relieved to have his most expressive features hidden. "It was fine," he said curtly.

And it had been. It was _always_ fine. Nothing more, nothing less – they met up, sat close together and just went on with their evenings. It was a tiring routine, one he wished would just be over with. He always went in with dread in his gut, imagining scenarios of Lucius taking advantage of their 'relationship' or mocking him, and he always left disappointed that Lucius _hadn't_ taken advantage of him and glad that he hadn't been made fun of.

"Harry…"

"I know," he whispered, tone defeated. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his head to the table, crossing his arms and using them as a pillow. "I know, okay?"

"It will get better," Hermione said quietly, as if she didn't quite believe it herself. Harry cracked a small smile at her effort, despite the fact that she couldn't see it. "Who knows?" she added in an uncharacteristically wistful voice. "This could be the start of something amazing."

Harry wasn't convinced, saying nothing. He thought about Lucius, about Malfoy and their associations and the kind of life he would have with them, and he couldn't help but be sceptical and just a little angry. Couldn't he just have a normal year for once?

An hour later they both packed up to head to the Common Room before dinner, essays finished and speaking of nothing in particular. They were stopped once or twice by friends or acquaintances, but soon they were heading up the moving stairs.

It was here that things took a—_interesting_ turn. They heard voices from down an unused hall, taunting and gleeful and not particularly intelligent. Someone muttered back to them in a dark voice, followed by a surprised squeak. Hermione and Harry glanced quickly at each other before hurrying down the passage, wands out and robes billowing behind them.

They came to an unused classroom of sorts, four backs to the entrance. They quickly recognised two Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw – ganging up on Malfoy and Parkinson? Their first thoughts were '_where the hell are Crabbe and Goyle_' but they quickly discarded this, focusing on what was being said.

Malfoy had spotted them, eyes widening somewhat before narrowing in suspicion. He said nothing however, gaze flickering back to the mismatched group in front of him.

"—not so high and mighty now, huh? You're lucky to even be associated with Harry Potter, but now your father is bloody fucking him too? That's rich! A Malfoy, a filthy Death Eater, getting on his hands and knees for—"

"I assure you, Mr. Malfoy is more likely to give himself up for being 'a filthy Death Eater' than to get on his knees for Harry," Hermione interrupted, eyebrow dangerously high and voice freezing the group in their tracks.

The leader, a stocky Gryffindor fourth-year called Something Rox, spun on his heel and gaped at them like they were Voldemort himself, resurrected and perhaps wearing a tutu? He stuttered incoherently for a moment before straightening, a shit-eating grin crossing his face.

"Ah, Hermione, you're as kind as ever. You don't need to defend him, we're on your side, remember! We were just taking care of—"

"Oh, come off it!" Harry rolled his eyes, snapping his wand towards the boy's head. "Scram! Or would you like Professor Snape to hear about you terrorizing Slytherins' in some dusty classroom? You remember what happened last year, no?"

That was still a sore subject around the school, though it had been taken care of and many people considered it to be over with. After Voldemort's final demise many Death Eaters had been put back into prison, as well as being arrested afresh. A few, eh, _braver_ souls around the school thought it their job to make the children of those Death Eaters' lives hell. Snape had come down on the assailants like a tsunami, gaining Harry's and many other students' respect. It hadn't been just Slytherins who had been involved, there had been a few Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and one or two Gryffindors, and he had spoken up for all of them.

"B-but we—!"

"Are a bunch of overgrown bullies," Hermione scoffed, lifting her own wand threateningly. "Come back when Malfoy and Parkinson have actually done something to you – bullying them for something that doesn't involve any of you is just pathetic. I think we should tell Professor Snape anyway, Harry. He needs some assistants to clean cauldrons, doesn't he?"

"Oh yes," Harry nodded, smiling sardonically. "It's too bad he only accepts toothbrushes. You can help him out, can't you? It doesn't look as if you use them anyway, with how much shite you spew."

The whole group was gaping at them now and there was a tense moment of silence before they fled, throwing angry glares at the so-far silent Slytherins on their way out. They waited until the echoing footsteps were gone before also turning to leave.

"Well, that was fun!" Hermione said brightly. "Toothbrushes, really?"

"Threatened me with it," Harry muttered, absently scratching his head. Louder, he added over his shoulder, "I'm sure you had something planned for them, so sorry for ruining your fun."

Malfoy snorted, glancing between them with piercing eyes. "Look at you two, saving the poor Slytherins from their demise. What are you doing down here anyway?"

"Heard Rox from down the hall. We were heading back to our Common Room," Hermione said dismissively, though her expression and posture was cautious. "If you'll excuse us, I think dinner is going to start soon."

Malfoy said nothing, Parkinson equally silent at his side. She didn't look particularly shaken or impressed, though her hair was ruffled as if she had been out in the wind. She nodded ever so slightly to Malfoy and they started walking for the entrance too.

Harry was just out of the door when he caught Malfoy's eye, noting the funny expression on his face. He looked caught between sardonic amusement and something like interest, but then he and Parkinson were going the opposite way, talking quietly with each other.

"Did you see her hair?" Hermione said as soon as they were alone. "Do you think they were snogging somewhere before the others came along?"

Harry shot her a surprised look, quickly realising what she was on about. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed her arm and dragged her forwards. "Come on, 'Mione, dinner time…"

* * *

><p>Harry felt awful. His eyes were dry and bloodshot, his skin felt like it was going to peel off and his entire body ached as if he had fallen off his broom and slammed into the ground at the a Quidditch match. He could barely think straight, just managing to get through the school-day before it became too much and he collapsed in his dorm, planning to sleep until Christmas.<p>

It wasn't festive when he awoke many hours later, but it had to be three or so in the morning. He felt notably better but not by much, groaning quietly as he tried to force his delirious mind to wake up.

It was two minutes later, blinking sleepily and running his tongue over his teeth that he realised he wasn't in his dorm. The room was too light, the furniture more luxurious – and of course Lucius Malfoy hadn't been there when he fell asleep.

His heart jolted, but he was in too much pain to try and move away. He was propped up against the older man's side, head originally resting on his shoulder. He tried to straighten up, but only managed to irritate his ailed body. An arm was curled around his waist, large hand propping up a book on his knee.

"Quite the situations you get yourself into, Potter," Lucius said, somehow turning his page without fumbling with the book – he was probably using his wand, though Harry had minimal movement of his head and couldn't see it. Lucius didn't sound particularly amused, as he would have thought.

"You _do_ realise the point of my coming here is so you don't keel over and do the one thing the Dark Lord never managed to, yes? It does not help if you do not call for my presence when needed."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but only managed in making a choked gurgling kind of sound. The arm around him tightened and he pressed his lips together in a pained grimace, stiffly allowing himself to be shifted back into his original position. His cheek was pressed into a broad shoulder once more and he was forced to inhale the spicy-sweet scent of Lucius' cologne [and Lucius in general.]

He shut his eyes tightly, fighting down the urges that arose with Lucius' presence and closeness. His very _vivid_ imagination was happily supplying exactly what they could have been doing instead of sitting awkwardly [on Harry's part] on the couch.

"I don't know why you continue to fight this," Lucius continued in a cultured drawl. "Veela are notorious for being family-orientated and lavish lovers."

Harry choked on his own saliva, cheeks flooding with colour as mortification spread through his body. His first thought was that Lucius was mocking him but the tone just didn't fit – he sounded matter-of-fact, almost _scolding_. As if Harry was being deliberately stupid about something he ought to know all about.

At a loss of what to do, he reacted as he always did when faced with an unfamiliar situation: with mistrust and caution.

He tried to move away again, but was met with an irritated sigh and an even firmer hold on his torso. His heart thumped in his chest, body flushing with a wave of heat that confused, scared and excited him all at the same time. He hated it, especially the way his mind whispered for him to lean in as close as possible and breathe in the gorgeous scent that clung to Lucius like a second-skin. His shove was strengthened by adrenalin and he found himself on the floor, body aching with dull pangs where he had landed.

Lucius book was caught under his leg and he struggled onto his knees, panting as he pushed off of the coffee-table before them and stood on jelly-like legs. Lucius made no move to help him, merely staring at him with a blank expression; cool grey eyes holding no emotions, his reflection glinting back at him.

He forced himself to move away from the compelling aura, grasping furniture for balance as he tried to find the exit. When he finally came to the portrait it refused to open, not budging an inch – not even when he pulled out his wand.

"You cannot leave," Lucius informed him calmly, the pages of his book ruffling as he picked it up off the floor and settled back on the chapter he had been busy with.

"You can't keep me here!" Harry croaked, clutching his chest where a strange fiery pain had taken up residence. His fingers clenched over the material of his shirt, nails digging into his chest. "Y-you can't…"

"It is Dumbledore's orders, boy," Lucius scowled, sitting back and crossing a leg regally. "Feel free to try and escape, however. You will no doubt perish without my close perimeter soon enough. That is your wish, no?"

Harry growled incoherently, already feeling his body rejecting his goal of getting back into familiar grounds – somewhere where he wouldn't dare snuggle into Lucius Malfoy like some pathetic kitten, or worse: _preposition him_. He wasn't completely convinced that particular request would be met with outright disgust, but he wasn't so sure Malfoy would just jump into bed with him, a Creature of the male persuasion and the same age as his son.

He felt his chest swell up with a disgustingly warm feeling at the thought of Draco – _his kit._ Except Draco – Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy! – _wasn't_ his kit, whatever the fuck a kit was anyway! Ever since their last meeting he had noticed his feelings for his enemy melting away, replaced by something primal and nurturing and absolutely ridiculous. He hated not having a choice, and he especially hated the fact that some idiotic creature he didn't even know existed inside of him before that year was rewriting his whole bloody emotional-history. It was no better than the Imperius, though at least he was able to throw that off – and no-one else seemed to agree with him, either. Even Hermione was a bit sceptical about his aversions! She claimed he might have been so 'passionate' with Draco about their status as enemies because after their initial meeting he had no other way to get close to him.

He thought it was a bunch of bull, but she refused to listen to him. He couldn't blame her when she was making eyes at said blonde from across the Great Hall – she would want them to get along, even if it meant pulling ridiculous theories from her arse and using his Veela-heritage as proof.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there all night? If you cannot stomach coming near me, then sleep in the bed. Neither of us can leave until morning when Dumbledore unlocks the door."

Harry stumbled from his thoughts, internally shivering at the smooth tenor to his ma—_Lucius'_ voice. He forced his eyes open, staring blearily at him from his place leaning up against the portrait. The bed was in the usual place, and now that Lucius mentioned it, it was calling for him to crawl inside and just never leave. Telling himself that he wasn't doing it because he was hoping Lucius would join him at some point, Harry limped back along his first path and past the couch, gripping the impossibly soft covers on the bed and yanking them away so he could flop on and roll inside.

His whole body practically melted into the mattress, all his aches and pains dulling into a soft hum. He drifted off quickly, though as darkness crept through his mind he couldn't help but wish there was someone beside him, holding him from behind and melding around his form…

* * *

><p>Unknown to him, Lucius would be doing just that in a matter of minutes. He was fast asleep by the time Lucius closed his book and shed his robes and shoes, not bothering to change his clothes into pyjamas before climbing into bed beside his mate. Burying his nose in the boy's nape, he breathed in deeply and revelled in his scent. It was obvious by the overly-sweet undertones that he was unclaimed, but that wouldn't be a problem just yet.<p>

Pulling Harry against his chest, back flush against his front, he crooned softly in his ear and smirked knowingly as the musky-sweet scent immediately changed, heightened and honeyed by pheromones that screamed "take me!" quite literally.

No, it wasn't a problem at all.

* * *

><p><em>"What's wrong with him?" Lucius demanded, though logically he knew exactly what was going on. He was frustrated, and used his words as a ways of venting.<em>

_"He has spent too much time 'away'," Dumbledore murmured, levitating the unconscious form of Potter onto the bed. Glancing at him from the corner of his eye, he continued, "You have not told the boy?"_

_"Of course not," Lucius sniffed, making a shooing gesture with his hand. "I will heal him."_

_"Please do," Dumbledore said, nodding to him before exiting through the portrait. Lucius heard him muttering a spell, followed by a soft zing over his flesh as the old man's magic sealed the room shut. He waited another minute or so before casting his own warding and silencing spell, just for safety's sake. When he was satisfied that they were truly alone and wouldn't be bothered, he dropped his cloak onto the couch and unbuttoned his robes. _

_Potter looked horrible, but that wasn't unexpected. He was pale and seemingly frail, dark circles under his eyes and lips chapped and bitten. He looked as if he had lost some weight too, which was worrying considering they had had contact just the week before. _It_ was speeding up, it seemed._

_Pointing his wand at his shoes, he undid the buckles and toed them off, doing the same for Potter. He was still wearing his uniform and had most likely crashed right after getting into his dorm. He removed his school-robes as a second thought before putting his wand aside [in reach] and climbing onto the bed beside the prone form of his mate._

_Propping himself up on an elbow, he slid so they were flush, cupping the sharp jaw and tilting his head so they were more or less face-to-face. Dark lashes gently brushed against too-pale cheeks, spots of red slowly rising to fill his face as their proximity got to him. Lucius hummed softly, swiping a thumb over his left cheek before leaning in close and brushing their noses together. _

_He was cold on contact, and Lucius was vaguely surprised he wasn't shivering. Shifting so his mouth fluttered over a steadily-warming cheek he breathed in deeply. Yes, any longer and they would have had a serious problem on their hands._

_"Foolish boy," he muttered, moving back and gently resting his hand on Potter's chest. His heart-beat was sluggish, but quickly sped up when he flattened his arm to use as a pillow instead, mouth directly beside the boy's ear. "I can't help you if you don't wake up," he whispered, dragging his hand down smooth cotton and feeling out for where it tucked into the uniform trousers. He tugged it out and slid his hand under the shirt, pressing his palm over the firm, flat stomach. _

_Potter's breath caught and Lucius continued speaking softly to him, caressing his chest and scratching his nails over sensitive sides but never going any lower. The pheromones in the air were desperately sweet, but he ignored the obvious arousal in favour of coaxing his mate out of the preservative slumber._

_Soon those dark lashes were fluttered, slowly sliding back to reveal hazy green eyes. They were impossibly dark, almost black, staring at him unseeingly for a moment before he blinked, clearing his head. The gaze was still not-all-there, but Lucius wasn't expecting anything more. Potter would need a while before he would be himself again._

_A soft groan left his throat and he arched somewhat into Lucius' touch, baring his neck and blinking lazily. Lucius mouthed the skin obligingly, careful not to leave any marks as he bit and kissed and sucked. He didn't want to have to do any explaining – just yet, anyway._

_Potter muttered incoherently, keening when he pulled away. He captured his lips instead, wiggling his arm out of his shirt and dragging him closer by an arm around his waist. Potter responded enthusiastically, though his skills were a bit lacking. Combined with his inexperience and his consciousness being taken over by a creature that was still a fledgling, it wasn't all that surprising that the kiss was rather sloppy. Lucius set out to correct him, dominating the movements and showing him exactly what to do._

_Slowly it drew to its natural end and Lucius went back to his neck, tasting and scenting experimentally. There was a vast improvement to his health, but he didn't doubt another boost was needed. He hesitated briefly, teetering between ideas before giving into the obvious one and sighing quietly. He didn't want to do such a thing when Potter was in a half-state, but it was the most logical choice at that moment._

_Potter immediately went in for a kiss when his mouth was free and available, seemingly not bothered when their noses and teeth clunked together. Lucius winced, irritation welling up inside of him before he merely rolled his eyes and lead them back into a satisfying pace, tongues brushing every now and then. _

_Potter pulled back slightly, eyes closed and mouth parted as he panted softly. He stayed like that for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, but then he was pushing Lucius onto his back and straddling his hips._

_Lucius was surprised he could even move, let alone manhandle him, though he supposed his recovery would be a moot point when his arousal levels were practically steaming up the wine-glasses on the coffee-table. Teenagers were pretty amazing in that regard, he thought dryly._

_Potter moaned low in his throat, leaning down on his forearms on either side of Lucius' head and smashing their lips back together. His erection was unavoidable in that position, digging into Lucius' hip and gaining both of their attention. Potter paused, their mouths still connected as he slowly and experimentally ground down. A gasp escaped his lips and he grew in confidence – _too much confidence_, if you asked Lucius. _

_He didn't particularly like being pinned to the bed and crushed by the boy and he especially didn't appreciate being treated as a bloody object for the little idiot to hump like a horny teenager, but he allowed it with a long-suffering sigh. He could always teach Potter about the _finer_ arts of rubbing off on someone another time. For now, he would indulge him and pretend that his body wasn't responding to the awkward thrusts. He was already crossing the line, he wouldn't back over his plans even more by also getting pleasure out of Potter's 'situation'._

_Potter made a strange choking sound then and Lucius reached up to pull him flush to his chest, gently rolling his own hips to draw out the orgasm. Potter whined in his ear, grasping a fistful of his hair and shuddering slightly. He went limp and Lucius waited a few long moments before shifting and sitting up, catching him in his arms and holding him upright so his head lolled onto his shoulder, nose buried in his neck. He summoned his wand and cast a few cleaning charms, grimacing when his erection was completely covered by the boy's lower-stoma—_

Harry jerked awake, eyes wide and body stiff as he stared unseeingly at the wall. His heart thundered in his chest, sweat cooling on his skin and boner pressing firmly against his pants.

He knew without looking around that Lucius was already gone.

Sighing shakily, he melted into the mattress and closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. Arousal seeped through his whole body, but he couldn't muster the strength to jerk himself off even though he would probably finish in seconds.

_It was just a dream_, he thought to himself, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. _One hell of a dream…but a dream._

…right?

* * *

><p>"Harry!"<p>

He winced, the Fat Lady closing behind him. The Common Room wasn't overly full, but quite a few faces looked up as he entered. Hermione immediately jumped up to greet him, though it was Ginny who had called out to him. He lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave, noting his friends who were scattered around the room.

"How are you? Are you okay?" Hermione asked, keeping her voice low. She seemed to hesitate in hugging him, but grabbed him in a strong-hold when he lifted an arm in permission. He still ached a bit, but it was nothing unbearable.

"I'm fine," he muttered, smiling weakly. "Just some, _you know_, stuff. It's taken care of."

"Were you with him?" she asked, eyebrows drawing together worriedly. "I was so scared when Ron told me…you gave them all a fright, you know…"

"Not really, no," he said, lips twitching in a sardonic smile. He shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. Yeah, Dumbledore called him, I guess. I spent the night in 'our' room."

"Together?" Hermione asked, mouth parting in a little 'o'. She obviously thought this was great, perking up and smiling just a little brighter. He tried not to roll his eyes, half-annoyed at her insistence that he had to make the best of a bad situation and half-glad she was so supportive. God knows he needed it.

"I…guess. I woke up beside him on the couch early this morning, and then I went to sleep in the bed. He was gone when I woke up."

She nodded, expression furrowing again before smoothing out. "Well, if Ron's descriptions of you had any lick of truth to them, you look loads better."

"What do you mean, 'any lick of truth'?" Ron demanded, folding his arms and glaring at her from his place on by the fireplace. "I told you, he was like a bloody ghost!"

"Yes, yes," Hermione flapped a hand, turning back to Harry. "Did Madam Pomfrey look you over?"

"Yeah, I was just there. She made me drink some vile potions and sent me on my way – all is good, I suppose. Hey Gin," he added, seeing Ginny come up to them. She smiled uncertainly, eyes flickering between.

"Alright, Harry? Professor Dumbledore said not to worry, but…" she trailed off, shrugging in a 'what can you do?' kind of way.

"I'm fine," he said, absently brushing a hand through his hair. "Much better than yesterday. Did I miss anything?"

"Not really, it's Saturday, after all. Couldn't have picked a better time to get sick, really."

"Saturday?" he echoed, confused. "But…"

"You were away for a day and a half," Hermione frowned at him. "You passed out on Thursday afternoon. Pretty convenient, since…you know…"

Harry shook his head, confused. "Right…right, alright."

"Are you hungry?" Ginny asked, fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. "It's almost lunch-time, so we can all go down for something to eat."

Harry started to decline, but saw Hermione's expression and nodded wearily. "Yeah, okay. You coming, Ron?"

"I could eat," his best friend replied, hopping up off the couch to follow them out of the Common Room. He and Ginny quickly fell into a conversation about Quidditch, Hermione hooking arms with Harry as they walked. A few people stared as they passed, but Harry was too used to it to really care.

Lunch was just starting as they arrived and they took their usual seats, piling their plates with food and chatting idly to each other. The hall quickly filled up, the noise-level rising an ear-ringing amount. Harry wasn't very comfortable at all, but stayed where he was to choke down the minimal amount of food Hermione insisted on.

He was sipping some pumpkin juice when an origami bird landed on his sandwich. He frowned at it, ignoring the curious looks his friends gave him and unfolded it, but not before glancing over his shoulder. There was a heavy stare on his back and he wasn't at all surprised to see Malfoy looking at him. He didn't appear to be hostile however, merely looking. He shrugged internally and glanced down at the note, eyebrows raising.

_Has Father discussed Christmas with you yet? We break up next week so I'd like to know specifics – am I required to buy you a gift and are we going to be civil or ignore each other, etc._

_-M_

He looked back over his shoulder, mouthing 'what? Christmas?' He was horribly confused, because it looked very much like Malfoy was implying he would be spending the holidays at his place. Where did he even live, anyway? He knew it was in England, but that was a given.

Malfoy also looked confused now and Harry was surprised when the note in his hands suddenly disappeared. He stared at his empty hand, ignoring the giggles around him. Apparently they didn't know who had written to him, because no-one went 'what the fuck are you doing, talking with Malfoy?!'

Two minutes later the bird reappeared, folded perfectly. He didn't bother looking back this time, merely opening it up and reading, squinting somewhat at the small print.

_I'll take that as a 'no' then. I thought he had mentioned it already. Father told me that you will be staying with us for a few days during the holidays, most likely before or after Christmas Eve; Dumbledore suggested it, I think, since this way you miss your meetings but you can make up for it._

Harry didn't really know how to respond when they were sitting on opposite sides of the room, so he only shrugged and stuffed the note into a pocket. He suddenly wasn't even the slightest bit hungry anymore.

_Spending Christmas with the Malfoys? _Not exactly on his list of to-dos. It would probably be some huge show of nothing, with formal dress and way too many presents and good lord he wouldn't be expected to converse with Mrs. Malfoy, would he?

Not that he was going. No, he was spending Christmas with Remus and Sirius like last year, and if they had to meet then Lucius could bloody-well come to Grimmauld Place himself.

Harry stood up from the table, deciding to go for a walk. He needed time to convince himself that spending Christmas with Lucius in any form was a _very_ bad idea.

* * *

><p>Time passed slowly and it was driving Harry absolutely mad. All he wanted was to see Lucius again, all he dreamt about was his amazing scent and all he thought about was when Thursday would finally show up. He was distracted and irritable the whole week, nearly ripping off the heads of anyone who dared question his 'moodiness'. Malfoy had backed off his usual mocking and taunting regime, regarding him with hooded eyes and knowing smirks. It pissed him off, but not as much as Ginny's insistence on following him around and scolding his behaviour. She didn't seem to understand that she was only making things worse, ignoring Hermione's and even Ron's warnings.<p>

He was currently trying to ignore her, staring resolutely at his potions homework and idly praying for a hole to appear and swallow him up. At least then, in infinite darkness, he could focus on his sulking. It was Wednesday and he still had a day to go before he could see his ma—_Lucius_.

"Harry, are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, Ginny," he said coldly. "I'm focusing too much on the Malfoys, I need to practise more for Quidditch otherwise the others will think I'm letting Malfoy win even though he never does against me, and have I heard about your new boyfriend?"

She went red, shaking her hair out and perking up when Hermione appeared from between some shelves, a hefty stack in her hands. "Hermione agrees with me, don't you, Hermione?"

"Er…about what?"

"That I should pay more attention to Quidditch and Ginny's boyfriends," Harry said brightly.

"Ginny," Hermione sighed, sitting down at their table, "Harry should be focusing on his – _you know what_. He should get this all under control as soon as possible; this way it won't become a problem in the future."

Ginny stared at her incredulously. "It's _already_ a problem! _Lucius_ _Bloody_ _Malfoy_, Hermione! He tried to kill me and his git of a son has antagonised us for years! Let's not even get started on his Death Eater status!"

"Yes," Harry hissed, "let's _not_. Drop it, Ginny."

"What?" Her hair whipped across her face, eyes narrowed dangerously as she glared fiercely at him. "Defending him, now? Feeling some sort of responsibility for him now that you have to fu—!"

"I do so hope this is not the same mouth you use to speak to your elders with," a dark voice mused, not the least amused.

Harry shuddered involuntarily, already having seen Lucius coming. He was standing directly behind Ginny, hand clenched on the head on his snake-cane and eyes dark with an emotion he didn't recognise. Clenching his legs together, Harry tried not to think about how bloody sexy he looked in that moment, hair falling to veil his face and stance conveying strength and arrogance.

Ginny, for her part, flinched wildly and dove out of her chair, wand out and pointing shakily at her 'attacker'. Lucius didn't even bat an eyelid, expression remaining thoroughly unimpressed.

"Ginny!" Hermione hissed, looking between her friend and the man she knew she should fear frantically. "Put that away!"

Ignoring both girls, Lucius looked at him and made a 'come-hither' gesture. "Follow me, Potter; Dumbledore wants a word."

Hesitating for only a short moment, thinking about all the reasons of why he should refuse, Harry nodded and started packing away his things when Hermione waved him off. "I'll do it," she said, ignoring his protests. "You shouldn't keep Professor Dumbledore waiting, Harry."

"How courteous of you, Miss Granger," Lucius commented, expression unreadable. "What polite friends you have, Potter."

Obviously unsure of whether or not he was mocking her, Hermione nodded slowly, not quite meeting his eyes. "Thank you, sir…"

He tipped his head and turned on his heel, motioning for Harry to hurry up. He rolled his eyes, muttering a goodbye and ignoring Ginny's sickly expression. He didn't know why she was suddenly acting up after months of 'not having an opinion' but it was certainly annoying.

"Why does Dumbledore want to see me?" Harry asked after a moment of silence Lucius didn't seem inclined to break.

"Us," Lucius corrected, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "I'm not here on my day off merely to play messenger, boy. He wants to discuss the upcoming winter holidays, I imagine."

_And it's finally out there_, Harry thought. "Right," he muttered in response, deciding not to question it. What was there to question? Malfoy had already let him know about their plans, or the idea, anyway.

They arrived at the head office quickly and in a semi-comfortable silence. Lucius uttered the password and they were admitted, barely in their seats before they were offered lemon-drops. Harry took one for politeness-sake, but Lucius merely stared at the bowl as if it would bite him before shaking his head jerkily.

"Well, I'm sure you're quite busy, Lucius, so I'll get to the point, shall I?" Dumbledore said pleasantly, sitting back in his chair and lacing his hands over his stomach. "Harry, young Mr. Malfoy has already spoken to you about spending Christmas with his family, yes?"

"Er…" _How does he _know_ that?!_ "It was mentioned, sir."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Of course, you do not have to spend the whole holiday with them, Harry. Your godfather has expressed his opinion on the matter and he would very much like to have you with him and his partner."

Harry didn't really understand why he didn't just say 'Sirius' and 'Remus' but he supposed it was from habit. Sirius had only been taken off the Ministry's watch-list right after the war, after all.

"I'd like to stay with them too…"

"But you understand that you need to be with Lucius?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply when the double meaning caught him. He stared wide-eyed at Dumbledore before sinking down in his chair, feeling a bit like he had been punched in the stomach. Lucius didn't seem to notice anything off, though he wasn't exactly transparent – if he wanted to hide something, Harry was very sure he could do it easily.

"…yes," he said finally, voice unusually quiet. "I understand."

"Very good," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling like mad. "I would suggest going home with young Mr. Malfoy and then travelling to your godfather on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day."

Harry didn't really catch the rest of the 'meeting' – one moment he was sitting in Dumbledore's office and the next he was climbing through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor Common Room as Lucius walked down the hall in the opposite direction. Hermione waved at him from her place near the fireplace but Ginny seemed intent on ignoring him. He didn't mind, talking briefly with his best friend before heading up for a nap before dinner.

Despite his insistence that he was just tired, he only managed in staring at the top of his bed for two hours. His mind was racing, thoughts stumbling over each other and varying in his importance. The most regular one, however?

_He didn't just _need_ to be with Lucius Malfoy…a part of him also _wanted_ to. A part that was a lot bigger than he was comfortable with._

* * *

><p>Harry could only have hoped the time would pass slowly, but alas, it was time for the holidays before he even knew it. He packed mechanically, eventually getting onto the train with Malfoy and riding back to King's Cross in a somewhat-awkward silence. It had been a pretty crappy day altogether, from listening to Ron and Hermione fighting because she supported him and Ron thought he was making the biggest mistake ever [not for the first time, either] to feeling Ginny's glare on his back to having to sit through hours of nothingness with only Malfoy for company. He supposed he was lucky they hadn't fought in that regard, however.<p>

They got off at the train-station, met by Mrs. Malfoy and no Lucius. He told himself he wasn't disappointed, focusing rather on not offending the wife of the man he was tied to for the rest of their natural lives. She was surprisingly pleasant to him [meaning she didn't castrate him on sight, nor did she outright ignore him.] They Portkeyed back to 'Malfoy Manor' as Draco had called it, and that was when his day went from crappy to not-so-crappy.

The estate they landed on [stumbled, on his part] was…breath-taking. He wasn't sure he would ever want to be raised in such a place, but the main building and the surrounding gardens were quite beautiful, if not slightly gloomy. Snow covered everything in a white layer, softening the sharp designs of the house – could it even be called a house?

Draco grabbed his sleeve, rolling his eyes at his gaping. He said nothing derogatory however, murmuring, "Welcome to Malfoy Manor."

Harry was shown inside, his things taken by an elf and deposited in a room he had yet to see. It was nearing dinner-time so Draco gave him a tour of all the rooms he would need to know the way to [he insisted] before asking if he wanted to have a quick fly around the gardens. Harry found the request strange, but Draco didn't see anything wrong with it and said he could borrow one of their extra brooms. There was a shed on the edge of what looked to be a miniature Quidditch pitch, filled with equipment and other outdoorsy-type things.

"Why all the brooms?" Harry asked curiously. There were five, which he found a bit excessive even for such an extravagant family.

Draco gave him a funny look, pointing to two notably older but taken care of brooms. "My parents were both on the Slytherin team when they were at school. They used to win quite frequently and keep their old brooms as keep-sakes. That one with the red band is my old training model and the blue one is Blaise's extra – he comes over a lot during the holidays so he keeps it here since his mother moves around a lot. Obviously the one in my hand is the one I use at school."

"Oh…" Harry felt quite embarrassed, but Draco merely shrugged as if it was no big deal and started strapping on some gloves. Harry stayed as he was, reminded of what had been plaguing him for the last few weeks – ever since Draco had become 'friendlier'.

"Are you…what?" He said, raising an eyebrow. "I know I'm gorgeous but no need to stare, Potter."

"Why are you being so – nice, I guess? Shouldn't you be trying to kill me or something? It's a bit suspicious that you're just acting as if this was always bound to happen. We've hated each other since day one, yet you're…I don't know, forget it."

Draco stared at him silently, not answering until he had finished dragging on his own gloves and was about to leave the shed in an embarrassed huff.

"It was bound to happen, in a way," he said. "It's not as if I'm not upset about this, Potter, but what exactly am I to do? Whine and throw a tantrum and expect everything to be better? Veela are serious business and it's frankly none of mine who my father sees."

"But your mother—"

"—is of the same opinion. Besides, there are sub-sections in most pureblood marriage-contracts about Creature 'mates'. Even if Mother, I don't know, didn't want to accept it, there would be nothing she could do. She and Father are still technically married, but she has no claims to him, per se."

"…that doesn't make me feel better," Harry muttered, though relief was coursing through his body. He didn't want him and Draco to be hostile in a family setting, nor did he want to deal with an angry wife, as horrible as it sounded.

Draco shrugged, shooting him a strange sort of smile. "Mother doesn't blame you or father, and she isn't against your…union. Now come on, maybe I can finally beat you on my own turf."

Harry snorted, still a bit uncomfortable about being so friendly with Draco but more than happy to try and get past that. They'd be forced together for the next century, after all…

* * *

><p>Dinner was awkward as all hell, but absolutely delicious. Not even Hogwarts' food could compare and he had to actually try not to make a fool of himself, very grateful there wasn't that whole "which fork do I use?!" situation. Dessert filled up the small space he had left in his stomach and then Draco was leading him down many winding halls, finally coming to a lavish room he wasn't sure should even go out to guests.<p>

It was probably bigger than the Dursleys' first-floor without all the walls and doors, decorated similarly to the room they had used for their meetings. The bed was even bigger if possible, dressed in emerald green with a billowing black-silky canopy.

"Father will be by in a half hour," Draco said simply before disappearing down the passage and through a door right at the end, leaving him gaping.

_What the hell did Lucius want?_ He thought furiously [and a little hysterically.] He closed the door behind himself, spying his trunk at the foot of the bed, unopened with Hedwig's cage sitting on top. He had sent her to Sirius, seeing no need to keep her there with him. Shaking his head, he decided to take a quick shower.

He got out some pyjamas and his toiletries, heading for the bathroom. It was as lavish as he expected, though smaller. He supposed there wasn't any need for a huge washroom. He set his things down and in the shower respectively, turning on the water and stripping. He had never been particularly awkward about using other people's bathrooms, though now he did feel a bit…strange. Shaking it off, he got under the spray.

He was squirting some body-wash into his hand when he noticed the vials of – something, on a rack stuck to the tiles. The labels were unreadable, though he guessed it was soap. Fancy soap. Ignoring the tingling in his gut, he washed and readied to get out of the shower.

Drying off, he put on his pyjamas and hung up his towel to dry, heading back to the room and stuffing his clothes into his trunk. A soft white towel was settled around his shoulders, catching stray water droplets from his hair. He was just tugging on a shirt when a short knock sounded from the door.

"Come in," he called automatically, cringing when he realised it was probably Lucius. And it was, in all of his smug glory. Harry was quickly distracted by the book in his arms and the way his hair fell over his shoulders.

"Ah, good, you've bathed already," Lucius said in a distracted voice, coming up to the bed and setting his book on the left-hand nightstand. He started unbuttoning his over-robes, walking towards the closet and getting out what looked to be pyjamas. It was as he was heading to the bathroom that Harry was snapped out of his stupor.

"What are you doing?!" he cried, horrified. "Is this _your_ bedroom?!"

Lucius frowned at his tone, throwing him an irritated glance over his shoulder. "Of course it is—…did Dumbledore not tell you we're sharing a bed?"

"NO!" Harry shouted, face flaming red and thoughts racing for such an occasion. He crossed his arms tightly around his chest, looking anywhere but Lucius' face. He shook his head silently, unbelievably embarrassed – though he didn't exactly know why…

Lucius was silent for a moment before sighing audibly. "The longer it takes to consummate a bond, the harder it is on the people involved. You've already experienced what it is like. We will be sharing a bed during the time you are a guest here so that you can 'power up' so to say. This way there won't be any problems during the time in which you have no contact with me."

Harry could see the logic, but he really didn't want to. He was suddenly struck with the realisation that he was _standing in_ _Lucius Malfoy's bedroom. Had just used his shower. Planned on sleeping in his bed._

"Would you rather have a different room? That means we will have to stay together longer during the day."

"I—I…" Harry shrugged helplessly. Sharing a bed wasn't _that_ bad, was it? At least this way he didn't have to worry about making conversation or anything like that. "It's fine…I guess…"

Lucius nodded shortly and continued on his way to the bathroom. Harry heard the shower go on and stumbled towards the bed, hesitating for a moment before sinking down on the mattress and staring at his hands. He had the sudden urge to laugh, but shook it off and sucked in a deep breath instead. He stood and untucked the duvet, awkwardly sliding inside before turning off the lamp on his side of the bed. Well, the side he would be sleeping on anyway. If that was Lucius' side then tough luck.

He lay his head down and wiggled a bit before sighing, the bed melding around his body like the one from their meeting room. He turned his face somewhat, rubbing his cheek over the material of the pillow when he was suddenly hit with an absolutely gorgeous scent. Lucius' scent.

His prick hardened immediately and he let out a mortified gasp, tucking his legs up so it wasn't noticeable. _Oh my god…oh my god…oh my god…_

It was just his luck [and not in the sarcastic sense] that Lucius apparently took lengthy showers, leaving him time to get control of his body. Unfortunately, and this is where the sarcasm comes in, that time didn't help him all that much. He was still as hard [and aching too] when Lucius came out of the bathroom forty minutes later. His back was to the door so he feigned sleep, though he wasn't sure it was working. He was too stiff – as a whole and in the dirty sense.

Lucius didn't say anything however, seemingly walking around the room uselessly before the door was locked and warded – here Harry freaked out somewhat – and the bathroom light dimmed. He got into bed beside him a moment later, leaving a sizable amount of space between them. He heard the rustling of paper and then silence except for his soft breathing.

He relaxed as time went by, though his cock refused to go down for some idiotic reason. He was lulled into a sort of between-place soon enough, though he didn't fall asleep for a while afterwards. Before finally drifting off, however, he did note the other light going off and a warmth radiating from behind himself.

He didn't have the heart or will to complain when a strong arm curled around his waist, drawing him back against a broad chest.

* * *

><p>"Are you feeling alright?" Draco was staring at him funny – had been since they met up for breakfast. Lucius was out for the morning and Narcissa was visiting with a friend on the opposite side of the manor.<p>

"I'm fine," Harry shook his head, clearing his throat a bit. "It's nothing."

He did feel a bit strange though…ever since he had woken up he had felt a little off, as if he were coming down with a cold. His throat was scratchy and his eyes dry, though he didn't have a runny nose nor a headache. He brushed it off, deciding to just let it play out.

"…right," Draco said, finishing his tea. "I'm going to go see Blaise. Do you want to come?"

Raising his eyebrows, he shook his head. "No…thanks for the offer, but I'll pass. Unless, of course, that was an order disguised as a suggestion."

"No," Draco looked amused, "you can stay here. Just don't break anything, obviously, and don't enter any closed doors. The portraits always have a hell of a time telling people off."

He nodded, glancing out the window. Since it was just the two of them they were having breakfast in a little side room overlooking the gardens, peacocks filtering through the snow. He thought he saw a dog or two, too.

"I'll be off, then. See you later."

"See you," he muttered, deciding to finish his breakfast and maybe Firecall Sirius. It was the twenty-first so he would be going back in a few days, but he still missed his godfather and Remus. Ten minutes later he was heading down the hall to a sitting-room he knew had a working Floo he was allowed to use. Kneeling before it and tossing some powder in, he called out the usual place.

"Cub!" Sirius greeted immediately. "How are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, smiling. "I'm pretty much by myself – oh don't look at me like that. Draco's gone to see Blaise Zabini, Narcissa has a friend over and Lucius is doing something…somewhere. I thought I'd give you a call to ward off boredom."

Sirius pouted, scrunching up his face in a ridiculous expression. "So, I'm a last resort, huh? I'm hurt, cub. I really am."

"_Sure_…how's it going? How's Remus?"

"It's all good, Remus is good. We're a bit lonely without you…"

Harry snorted. "Right. So you're all dishevelled and Remus is grumbling in the background because…?"

Sirius went bright red, but grinned widely. "Well, I totally didn't shove him off me during an especially hawt make-out sess—!"

"Okay! Enough! You're like my parents, I don't want to hear about your sex lives!"

"Oh, _sweet_ little Harry. You consider making-out to be sex. What's next, thinking holding-hands is like marriage?"

"Oh, give off it."

Sirius paused then, squinting at him. "Are you okay, Harry? You look a little…peaky."

_Him too?_ "I'm fine," Harry frowned. "Anyway, is Mrs. Weasley helping you with Christmas dinner?"

"Er, if you mean by 'helping' then doing the whole thing, then yes…"

"Sirius! She has her own family to cook for, you know!"

"Yes, yes. She offered, I'm only being gracious and…"

And so the conversation went on, them talking back and forth for at least an hour before Sirius had to go [most likely to molest Remus.] He shuddered at the thought, deciding to have a browse around the manor to fill his time. He was halfway to the library when he realised he was actually pretty tired. His symptoms were seeming to get worse, and he thought the itching along his arms was a bit familiar…

_Fuck! It's starting again!_

It wasn't quite as bad as the last time, but it was definitely the same. The more he thought about it, the more awful it became, crawling along his body and plunging deep into his bones. He stumbled back to Lucius' room and collapsed on the bed, panting and clutching his chest. He immediately felt better upon inhaling the sweet scent clinging to the sheets, relaxing on the mattress and allowing himself to be soothed by the soft magic in the room.

He didn't even bother trying to fight off the urges to be closer to Lucius, unabashedly wishing he were there to pacify him. Even with the soothing scent he felt ill, itchy and sore, so he decided to just lay there for a while. A long while, hopefully.

Sometime along the line he fell into a light doze, groaning quietly as a scorching fire spread through his sluggish body.

* * *

><p>"Where's Potter?" Lucius asked, finding his son and wife playing chess in the latter's favourite sitting-room. "He isn't with you, Draco?"<p>

"I haven't seen him since this morning," Draco replied. "The elves said he wasn't feeling well and went to bed. I thought he looked a bit off, but he said he was fine…"

Lucius frowned at this. Unless it was a cold he didn't see why Potter would be feeling ill…unless of course it was the Solstice that was effecting him, but that didn't make much sense since he was unmated and a fledgling. Shaking the thought off, he said, "Shall we go to the dining-room for dinner, then?"

"Best have Moddy check on him," Narcissa said, smoothing down her skirt and waving her wand so the chess-pieces froze in their positions. Draco offered her an arm and she got up, following him out the room.

"Moddy!" he called, not stopping as he waited for the elf to pop up. It was only a second's wait before the little thing was hurrying to catch up with his long strides. "Check on Potter, see if he feels well enough for dinner. If not, get him whatever he needs."

"Yes Master!"

"Do you think it's the Solstice, Father?" Draco asked quietly. "He didn't seem to have a cold…"

Lucius shrugged fluidly, though inwardly he applauded his son's way of thinking. "I do not know…it is possible, but very unlikely."

"Well, Potter seems a bit – extraordinary, no?" Narcissa mused. "Why would these rules apply to him?"

Both father and son paused, staring at her before sharing a look. Yes, she was quite right…

Moddy appeared again, bowing nervously. "Masters Potter-Call-Me-Harry is sleeping, Masters. He does not wishes to be bothered."

"Dismissed," Lucius said thoughtfully, holding the door to the dining-room open for his wife and son. They took their seats and he settled himself at the head of the table, still thinking when they started eating. He would check on the boy after dinner…

An hour or so passed before they finished up, Draco heading to his room and Narcissa for the library for something to read before bed. Lucius stopped at his office for a couple minutes to order some documents and send out a few owls, making his way to his bedroom after making sure the manor was locked up for the night. The room was dark when he opened the door, though the curtains were still drawn, letting moonlight filter into the room. It was muted because of the many clouds and snow, but it still lit up the bed somewhat.

Potter was lying across the bed, not even under the covers, sprawled out like Lord Muck himself. His shoes had been tugged off, but he was otherwise wearing what Lucius assumed he had gotten dressed in that morning. Sighing, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he pulled off his own shoes and flung his robes over a chair.

"Potter?" he called, leaning over his body and shaking his shoulder. He lit one of the lamps as a second thought, frowning when the boy's pale face came into view. "Potter?" he called again, voice notably gentler. "Are you okay?"

Green eyes fluttered open, hazy and dark – just like the last time. _It's the Solstice_, he realised, feeling heat creep over his being. He forced himself to break contact, clenching his fist instead. He had taken his potion, but when Potter was experiencing it too…

"Nnng…Lucius?" Potter slurred, struggling to sit up and only managing in rolling on his back. Groaning, he fisted his eyes and arched his back. Lucius quickly turned away from the sight, trying to figure out how not to end up molesting the boy.

"How do you feel?"

"Awful," Potter croaked, swinging back onto his side and seeming to curl in on himself. He paused, chest expanding as he suddenly breathed in deeply. "Oh, that smells good…Mm, safe…"

He frowned, about to ask what the hell he was talking about when it hit him. Lucius shook his head, swallowing thickly. It was becoming more apparent to him, too.

"It's the Solstice," he managed in an even voice. "You need to sleep it off. You'll be fine tomorrow, hopefully."

"The Solstice?" Potter mumbled in between snuggling against the sheets. It was a pretty ridiculous sight – he looked like a cat around catnip.

"Yes. The Winter Solstice is today, the twenty-first of December. The Equinoxes and Solstices are important for Creatures, and they effect Veelas too. They're usually used for…mating, I suppose."

"Mm…that sounds like a good idea…"

"Yes, well—_what_?!" He spun on his heel, blond hair bouncing around his face. His eyes widened somewhat, though not enough to really convey his surprise. Potter had sat up on his knees, thighs spread and head tilted back somewhat – all in all a surprisingly sensual position.

Green eyes blinked lazily up at him and then Potter was sliding off the bed, approaching him with a little sway to his hips that was _not_ distracting, dammit! Dragging his hands up his chest, Potter tilted his head back and brushed a kiss along his jaw. "Come to bed, Lucius?"

"You're not thinking straight, Potter," Lucius murmured, pushing him away. "Come back when you want me as a human too."

"Well, I'm obviously not thinking straight," Potter laughed, apparently not at all perturbed by his rejection. Leaning in close, he gave Lucius no warning before quite firmly grabbing his crotch. "You're _very_ much a man."

Lucius closed his eyes, partly in disgust at being pawed at and partly because of the lust that coursed through his body when he got a whiff of the pheromones exuding from his mate. Holding his breath, he grabbed the offending hand and yanked the boy away from his reluctantly responding body. "We're not doing this, Potter."

"Why not?" the idiot-boy demanded, looking hurt. He fisted his hands at his sides, lips thinning. "Do you not want me? Do you not like me? Is it—is it because I'm just some halfblood Creature that doesn't deserve your pureblood prick? You never touch me! Never! You never want to be mates, or kiss, or talk about it! It's been months, yet you never reject me!"

Despite the ludicrous statements thrown in in-between, Lucius quickly grasped what Veela-Harry was trying to say. He stalked forward, grabbing him around the neck and yanking him forward so their chests were flush, forcing his head back to look him in the eye. "_I'm_ not the one refusing this bond!" he hissed, a little dizzy from all the pheromones and his potion-repressed instincts. "What about _you_, hmm? Acting as if it's painful to even look at me!"

"I would never! I—!"

"When your eyes lighten, I'll believe you," Lucius scoffed, pushing him away, uncaring that he stumbled and fell back onto the bed. "_Go to bed_, Potter. I'm not going to argue about this anymore."

He planned to take a shower and then go to sleep himself, forcing Dreamless Sleep down the idiot's throat if he had to, but stopped when he heard the rustling of fabric and a soft thump as material hit the floor. He looked back just in time to see Potter wiggling out of his trousers, glaring fiercely at him the whole time.

"What are you—?"

"Touch me!" Harry practically begged despite his dark expression, on his knees and legs spread, making his pants spread tight over his – _bits_. "We don't have to fully bond…touch me, Lucius? Please? I _need_ you!"

"You _need_ a smack upside the head," Lucius muttered, clenching his teeth and forcing himself to look away. Sucking in an angry breath he stormed forwards, grabbing the clothes off the floor and slamming them onto the bed. "_Get. Dressed. Potter!_ Now! I'm not dealing with your nonsense!"

"I love you!" Potter hissed, lunging forward and grabbing his shirt, dragging him forwards. "I love you…I love you…I love you…"

"No, you don't," Lucius said coldly.

"I do," Potter muttered, leaning forward and wrapping his arms firmly around his waist. "I do…I want you and I love you…isn't that enough?"

Lucius said nothing, staring down at his messy head of hair. It would be so easy to complete their bond right then and there, but he knew if he did it when they were both in such states that it would only end with Potter waking up and hating him more than he ever had before.

"Just a kiss then," Potter murmured into his chest. "Just a kiss?"

Lucius knew immediately it was a ploy, but he couldn't help himself. He was practically buzzing with all of the repressed emotions in his body and if he could knock the idiot out on the way he could take a shower and calm himself down. Unfolding his arms, he tilted his chin up and leaned down for a brief kiss – nothing more than a brushing of the lips.

_Really_ bad idea.

If Potter _smelled_ good, he _tasted_ amazing and the little groan that bubbled out of his throat was_ wonderful_. Lucius had the idiot's tongue in his mouth before he knew it, losing his balance and sprawling over the boy. Potter made no complaints, moving with his fall and gladly dragging him over his smaller frame. He lapped eagerly at his lips, moaning when Lucius caught his lower lip and tugged at it before letting it go and smashing their mouths together for a bruising kiss.

Potter's arms went around his waist again, darting up and down his sides and chest, over the backs of his thighs and fisting into his hair. He didn't mind, not taking notice of it except for that it felt nice, but then fingers fisted the material near his shoulder-blades and he stiffened. But it was too late.

Potter and his busy hands rubbed over just the right spots, not realising it at first and then going over it again. He froze then, the kiss stopping completely.

Lucius shuddered involuntarily, trying to push away and finding himself locked in the boy's arms.

* * *

><p>Harry had been having an <em>interesting<em> dream. It was hot and colourful and the scents just amazing, the voices dark and warm like chocolate. He had first thought that he should just go with it, acting out his most secret fantasy, but as he was kissing Lucius like his life depended on it, he noticed something…strange.

Just along Lucius' shoulder-blades, on either side of his spine, were ridges. They were almost lost in the folds of his shirt, but as he pressed his fingers flat over them they were unmistakable. He felt his mind becoming clearer as he focused on them, rubbing over the soft bone-like appendages. It came to him like a bolt of lightning.

"You're a Veela," he whispered.

Lucius was frozen, hair veiling his expression and breath caught in his throat. He was moving then, limbs stiff and muscles flexing under his hands as he tried to get away.

"No!" he protested instinctively, clinging to him and forcing him flat onto the bed with him. Harry wrapped his legs around the slim hips, momentarily deciding to ignore their obvious [though waning] arousals. He felt a soft nudge of pleasure and he was vaguely sure Lucius did too, though neither commented on it. "Stay…" he said, at a loss at what to do.

They were flush, body-heat and scents mingling. Harry closed his eyes, tilting his head up somewhat to bury his nose in the smooth flesh of Lucius' neck. His scent was intoxicating, but now that he knew what to do look for, he could certainly smell the Creature edges to the sweetness. "You're a Veela," he repeated, voice full of detached wonder. He wasn't sure how to feel, though there was definitely relief as well as confusion and something like anger. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lucius was silent, as if saying nothing would defuse the situation. Anger welled up in Harry and he dug his nails into firm flesh, resisting the urge to bite and mark that pretty neck. "You should have said something! I thought – I thought…"

"I wanted you to come to me," Lucius said, voice devoid of emotion. "I've waited twenty-six years for a mate, Potter. I wanted to be sure that you would stay."

Harry was struck with that realisation, though he wouldn't take that as an excuse. "How would I leave?! I would die!"

"There are ways. You are only a halfblood, after all. Not even – a quarter, or less maybe."

"…you wanted to make sure I wanted you before revealing your heritage?"

"It is a well-kept secret," Lucius sounded disgusted. "I wouldn't want you tattling to others that our blood is riddled with Veela traits."

Harry closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. "…where would I go?"

"Away. Perhaps you would find a lover. As you can see, I wed and had a child just fine. If we were full-blooded, we would have both died a long time ago."

"Does Draco carry the traits?" Harry asked, feeling a bit like he was having an out-of-body experience.

"Yes. You have both recognised each other as kin, I'm sure."

"…he has been acting weird around me…"

"Could you let go of me, Potter? I would like to gather my dignity alone, if you wouldn't mind."

"I do mind, actually!" he said angrily, tightening his hold. "That dream – that wasn't a dream, was it? You – you got me off! I've read about that, about how Veelas use sex as a means of recovery…"

Lucius was silent for a moment, before sighing heavily, breath washing over his neck and shoulder. "Then you know I was saving your life."

"I never said you weren't," Harry muttered, cheeks flushing. "I…you weren't even there in the morning…"

"…would you have rather woken up to me in the bed?"

"…I don't know…"

"Exactly. I left to avoid an awkward situation."

They were silent, just holding each other – or, really, Harry strangling Lucius to his chest. He wanted to let go, to hold him even tighter, to hit him for not saying anything and to kiss him for being so unromantically-romantic with wanting to keep the Veela talk in the family, therefore making Harry a part of the family.

"Stay," Harry whispered, deciding to just close his eyes and hope it was all better in the morning. And maybe it would be.

"…yes."

They slept.

**Finis.**

* * *

><p>Okay...um...this has turned into a monster. I'm already contemplating a Part 2 to answer all of the left-over questions because I really just couldn't write any more for this part...Anyway, I hoped you liked the fic and it was something along the lines of what you wanted!<p>

A huge thanks to **Firefly81**, my wonderful teammate and beta, for having a look-over for me! :D


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